AN INTERLUDE
Doris and Kitty thought that the Misses Gates had finished their story,
but presently, after a long pause, Iris went on with difficulty:
“After the funeral we closed the front gates and locked them. To this day
they have never been opened.”
“We could not bear to remain in Rumson after all that had happened,”
Azalea said quietly. “We went to Europe—Iris to France and I to Germany.
There we plunged into study in the hope that it would help us to forget.
Finally, when the old wound was partially healed, we once more turned to
each other and returned home.”
“Then you both must be fluent linguists,” Doris broke in eagerly.
“Yes,” Iris agreed rather indifferently. “I speak French and Azalea has
an excellent command of German.”
“Then perhaps you could help me! My singing teacher says I must study
French and German this summer.”
“I am sure it would be a pleasure,” Iris declared.
“Yes, indeed,” Azalea added. “We have so little to occupy our time, and
personally I shall be glad of an opportunity to brush up on my German.”
“We have troubled you enough for one day with our unhappy history,” Iris
said lightly. “Come, I will show you the rest of the garden.”
Doris had hoped that the ladies would tell her why they had invited her
to Locked Gates, but apparently they found it difficult to lead up to the
subject.
Three days slipped by almost before the girls were aware of it. Once they
had accustomed themselves to the quiet life of the mansion, they found it
very enjoyable. They spent their mornings romping in the garden with Wags
and their afternoons reading or sewing. Azalea and Iris left them alone a
great deal, no doubt thinking the girls would have a better time by
themselves. However, Kitty and Doris observed that the Misses Gates spent
an hour of each day on the third floor, and as the ladies always took
their Bible with them, they assumed that they were reading it there.
“Odd, isn’t it?” Kitty commented to her chum. “You would think they could
read it in the living room as well as any other place.”
“Perhaps they don’t like to do it when we are around,” Doris suggested.
The girls did not mean to pry, but, suspecting that Cora and Henry Sully
were aiding in a plot against the Misses Gates, they were more watchful
than they otherwise might have been. On one occasion, as they passed
through a hall, they chanced to hear the two engaged in conversation.
“Don’t see why they keep hangin’ on here unless they’re wise to
something,” Henry muttered to his wife.
“What could they know?” Cora had demanded sullenly. “If you keep a close
tongue in your head, nothing will get out.”
“You’re the one that has the wagging tongue,” Henry returned crossly.
“I’d feel better if Trent would get back here. I’m for gittin’ the thing
over with as quick as we can. No telling what may queer the deal.”
This snatch of conversation set Doris and Kitty to thinking anew of the
sinister plot which was brewing. Yet, until they had learned more about
Ronald Trent, they did not wish to alarm the Misses Gates. Since their
arrival, Azalea and Iris had been very kind to them and had seemed to
enjoy their company a great deal. Cora and Henry Sully had been most
unpleasant, especially when there was no one about to observe their
behavior, but the girls, knowing what lay behind the sullen actions, did
not permit themselves to become annoyed.
“They mean to make it so unpleasant for us that we’ll leave,” Doris
declared. “You know, Cora was hinting today that the mansion is haunted!”
“What!”
“Yes, she said that since Mr. Gates died, they have heard strange noises
here at night.”
“Doris, do you believe the place is—”
“Of course not,” Doris laughed reassuringly. “You’re old enough to know
there aren’t any ghosts.”
“Yes,” Kitty quavered, “but this house is old, and we have been hearing
strange noises at night.”
It was true that each night the girls had been disturbed by loud groans
and the sound of gruff voices. Doris had wondered if Cora and Henry Sully
were trying to frighten them, for certainly it was not the wind that they
heard.
It was lonesome and gloomy in the right wing of the old mansion and the
girls had come to dread the nights. They would have been less nervous if
Wags had been permitted to stay with them, but he had been consigned to
the shelter of the porch.
Several times Doris and Kitty had been tempted to tell the Misses Gates
everything they had learned, but knowing how partial the two ladies were
to Ronald Trent, they hesitated. It would be better, they decided, to
wait for the plotters to make the first move.
Doris had wondered if Dave would visit her at the mansion but she had not
dared to hope that he would come for at least a week. On the afternoon of
the third day she was, therefore, greatly surprised when she heard the
rhythmical hum of an airplane motor.
“I wonder if it can be Dave?” she exclaimed to her chum.
Eagerly they watched as the plane swept closer. Then Doris recognized the
familiar craft and scarcely could contain her excitement. The monoplane
circled low and Dave waved to them. Finally he dropped a note to Doris
telling her that he intended to come to see her soon. After that he
turned back toward the airport.
“I suppose he’s just out for a trial flight today,” Doris declared.
When Kitty was not looking, she carefully folded the note and placed it
in her pocket for future reference.
The sight of Dave, distant as it was, gave the girls a slight touch of
homesickness, and for want of a better occupation they decided to write
back to their friends. They had the library to themselves, for as usual
Iris and Azalea had taken their Bible with them to the third floor.
“Jake certainly would enjoy this place,” Doris commented as she sat at
the desk with pen poised. “He likes mysteries and things that smack of
the unusual.”
“Jake has had an interesting past, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, Uncle Ward rescued him from a bad gang. I think Jake is still
afraid of the old leader for he never uses his real name and always seems
half afraid that some one he knows will find him. He is absolutely
devoted to us now and would do anything in the world to help us.”
“Then tell him to come down here and rid this place of ghosts,” Kitty
joked.
“I’ll bet he could, all right. Jake wouldn’t hesitate to plow right into
them.”
“Seriously, I wish he and that young man you call Marshmallow would ride
out here. Perhaps they could help us to get a line on Ronald Trent.”
“That’s so,” Doris agreed. “But why bring Marshmallow in on it? I guess
you’d like to see him yourself, wouldn’t you? I noticed you two took to
each other on sight.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing Marshall if he happened to be coming this way,”
Kitty admitted unembarrassed. “He’s so jolly and—”
“Fat!” Doris finished mischievously.
“He is a little plump,” Kitty admitted, “but I don’t mind that.”
“We might write to Marshmallow and tell him of our experiences here,”
Doris said thoughtfully. “It may be that we will need his help before we
get home again.”
The girls fell to writing their letters and for some time there was no
sound other than the scratching of their pens. Kitty wrote home while
Doris sent messages to her uncle, to a girl friend in Chilton, to Dave,
and to Marshmallow. She did not fail to include a cheery word for Jake.
Having finished their writing, the girls took the stamped letters and
placed them in the mail box where the postman would gather them up early
the next morning. They walked slowly back toward the mansion, Wags
trotting contentedly at their heels.
Already it was dusk and the old mansion appeared wrapped in gloom. During
the day the ancient house seemed less austere and mysterious, but by
night it took on a character which filled the girls with uneasiness.
Their imaginations tricked them into believing that shadowy forms might
lurk behind the trees. They tried to shake off the mood, but always with
the darkness it came.
“This is entirely different from Barry Manor,” said Doris. “Fancy our
sorority moving in here for a week-end, that surely would liven things up
a bit, but would no doubt upset the lives of these two ladies who live so
secluded and almost a hermits’ existence.”
“I don’t see how the Misses Gates can stand to live here all the time,”
Kitty said as they turned toward the side door where Wags was to be tied
for the night. “I’d be a nervous wreck. I wish they would hurry up and
tell you why they invited you here.”
“So do I,” Doris returned earnestly. “I am sure they haven’t told us all
of their story. To speak of the past revives old memories and they keep
putting it off. Ronald Trent may come back any day now and I want to
learn just how matters stand before he gets here.”